Everywhere, Phallic images

To be perfectly honest: I’m not one of those girls who find all penises lovely. To the contrary, if, for whatever reason, I’m forced to stare and study and contemplate the hard cock so eager to enter me, I begin to wonder: Is it just me, or is this particular penis distinctly unattractive, even unappetizing?

So, no, it’s not the visual aesthetics that excite me. Rather, my cock cravings are all about touch and taste. To hold the hardness in my fingers, to lick and kiss it, to let it slide down my throat, then to feel it enter my make-believe pussy, at first tentatively, thrusting, then deep, thrusting, ever deeper, deep, so deep inside me.

It’s the function, not the form, that counts.

So it is with my makeup brushes. I must have more than a score, all sizes and shapes and textures. To the untrained eye, they sort of all look the same. But each functions entirely, yet subtly, differently. To dust powder, you’d never, ever use a contour brush, for example.

Speaking of my contour brush, I must confess that it — even more than the fan-shaped blush brush — is my personal favorite.

The way the bristles are clipped reminds me of the flat-top/crew-cut of a sexy Marine platoon sergeant with whom I once fell in love. And the very fact that the contour brush is sharply clipped — and not broad and bushy like most of the others — makes me think of a circumcised penis.

The tiniest of my makeup brushes — for eyeliner — also holds a special place in my heart. Its proper use requires an especially deft touch and skilled technique. Which perhaps proves the (larger) point that size does not always matter.

Different cocks, different techniques, different occasions, different needs. And I get to experience them all in my quest toward truth and beauty!